


Hate to Love You

by TackiiGlue



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Be who you wanna be~, Bickering is a Love Language, Breaking Up & Making Up, Chapt 2 is Optional Happy End, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Micah has a heart waaaay deeeep down, OOC, One Shot, One Shot with a Sequel Chapter, Other, Out of Character, Tumble prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TackiiGlue/pseuds/TackiiGlue
Summary: Based off of a tumblr prompt to incorporate a phrase into a fic and it turning into a small Micah/Reader drabble. Very OOC, and I added a second chapter for an optional happy end. :) I'll add the original prompt info in the beginning if you're curious!You're apart of the gang and against your better judgment, you put your feelings in the most hated man in camp. And now after his little trip in Guarma, he refuses to even give you the time of day. This can only end badly for you both and you hate it.  You hate that you still love him.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Reader, Micah Bell/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	1. Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at reddeaddenial on tumblr  
> \- Original Prompt Info Below -
> 
> [ “Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.” -tumblr sentence prompt
> 
> Micah x Reader Part 1
> 
> Word Count: 2091
> 
> Welp this turned into an angsty reader x micah somehow lmao. I’m gonna retcon some minor stuff after Guarma cuz it makes no sense imo but i dont think it’s too noticeable lol This got really long for no reason and I’m very sorry. I tend to write ramble when I’m not sure where I’m going with something so this just sorta happened haha ]

Abandoning Shady Belle was a quick and panicked mess. You packed as quickly as you could, knowing you and the group couldn’t dawdle. Couldn’t have time to mourn. But it felt like like abandoning the old camp was also abandoning the others who they had to leave in Saint Denis, after that horrible bank robbery gone wrong.

Good people died. Hosea… You adored Hosea like a father. Took you into the gang near a year ago when you had no where else to be. Lenny... That poor boy didn’t deserve the end he got. And then the others according to Charles, smuggled themselves on a boat. A boat that no one has heard about since. But there was mentions of an awful storm not a day later and everyone feared the worst.

That was a good portion of the gang missing and it was an awful blow to morale in their new camp in Lakay. Dutch, their slowly unhinging leader. Arthur, probably the most well meaning voice of reason and right hand to Dutch. Javier, the group salvaged his guitar, but was left un-played in a corner of the camp. Bill, they made sure to take all the horses, even those without their riders now; but Brown Jack was growing increasingly restless without the usual attention and pampering from his owner. 

And then there was Micah. And honestly, no one in camp made mention of missing his presence. Or any comment at all. At least not around you. Because for reasons that they and even some days you could not comprehend, Micah and you were sweet on each other.

Well maybe sweet wasn’t the right word. More of a tolerance. That tolerance started with holding your ground over Micah’s aggressive and rude talk to you and the others. Your quick witted back-talk seemed to annoy him at first, but it then became the norm for you two to just banter. It was an amusing show to some, with how quick tempered you both were and constantly clashed. But it kept Micah from harassing others in camp mostly so no one seemed to care. But then things…changed after a party at camp one night.

Too many drinks. You ending up in Micah’s lap, playfully arguing with him. Next thing you know, you’re both kissing heavily, much to the shock and disgust from those who noticed. After that, things were different yet… not. You would still shout and fight with each other. But more often than not afterwards, Micah would yank you behind some trees or tent and fool around. A lot. What can you say? The man was an asshole but he was very skilled in other areas.

But what was most shocking and just a secret between the two of you, was just the normal conversations when alone. Stories about past robberies. Life before outlaws. Complaining about Pearson’s food. It was small things, nothing earth shattering. But those tiny quick moments seemed to bring you both together more than any fooling around did. He wasn’t a nice man; you couldn’t fool yourself that he was even if you tried. But you liked him. A lot more than you should have. And you hoped to think the feeling was mutual.

But now the bastard had gone and got himself lost in a boat at sea. And you were more torn up about it that you ever thought you’d be. In a sense you were grateful no one made comments, good or bad about Micah Bell. Most days you could just go about camp chores without thinking too much on him. The times you did though... He was probably dead. Dead and gone but no one would care. You cared. You cared enough to cry into your pillow some nights. You hated it. Micah would have called you out for being such a whimpering weak-willed thing for crying. You cared and you hated that you did.

It took several days and nights but with a lack of hearing his name around camp, hearing his voice, you were getting better. Not over it, but you were more focused on keeping the rest of the group alive, helping Sadie and the others where you could.

But then, one day Arthur Morgan walked right into Lakay. Looking a bit worse for wear but he was alive. And according to him, everyone was. Dutch, Bill, Javier. And Micah. You didn’t know how to feel. Ecstatic at first but… Now you were just mad. Furious. You wanted to punch that fool. No. Shoot him in the damn leg so he couldn’t go wandering off on boats and getting shipwrecked in god damned fucking Guarma. Really? Guarma?!

The group could feel your storm of emotions and wisely left you be. They knew how you got when you were in one of your Moods. A day or so later, Dutch and the others showed up to camp, exhausted looking, but alive and breathing. And there he was Micah Bell. Alive. Not even looking in your direction and antagonizing Sadie and the others. You scowled, hating at how hurt you actually felt by it. You stalked off, going to find a place to cool down before you caused a scene.

About an hour later, you wandered out of your hiding place in one of the wagons and walked about looking for the fiend that had an unfortunately tight grip on your heart. There he was, on the porch overlooking the swamps leaning back lazily in a chair. Alone. Good. Maybe you could both just… talk.

You walked across the porch, the thump of your boots across the rickety floor made your presence known as you stopped beside him. “Micah.”

Micah looked up at you with an unreadable expression, and just looked away indifferently. “What you want y/n?”

Ouch. You took a steady breath trying to keep your growing pent up anger from bubbling over. “Think you know Micah Bell. Haven’t seen you since that nightmare of a robbery in Saint Denis.”

Micah snorted and crossed his arms. “So? What, you here to check up on me?”

You almost needed to physically restrain yourself from reaching for your gun to… to do anything. Anything to just get him to even fucking look at you. You swallowed your pride though and answered him honestly.

“…Yes.”

That had him looking at you again, but you caught a flash of genuine surprise in his eyes before it was hidden with indifference again. Which confused you all the more when he said “It’s no concern of yours. Now how about you run along and go chat up someone else? I’m not in the mood with putting up with your usual shit.”

“Why are you acting so-?!… I thought you… and me…” Dread was filling your gut. The emotions of all the awful things that have been happening these past weeks were really messing with you right now and Micah acting so indifferent. You knew there was a good chance that he didn’t give a shit about you. You knew that the little bonding moments could mean nothing. You knew all of that, but your heart was being shot up into little pieces right now. You had only yourself to blame. You knew… but you had hoped.

“You and me what? Thought you were smarter than that y/n. Got more things to worry about than your pining.”

“Pinin’?!” There is was, a crack in the dam keeping your anger at bay. Your voice raised a bit, eyes narrowing. “I’m the only one that tolerates your shit attitude in this damned gang! Sure you can shoot a gun, but if it ain’t for that, no one ‘round here woulda hesitated puttin' a bullet in your head with the way you go on!”

Micah scowled and stood up from the chair, facing you completely. This argument was different from all the rest you both had before. You could tell how the way he was looking at you. Something changed in him. Was it from the incident at Saint Denis? What happened in Guarma? You weren’t sure. But whatever cruelty he held back on you was let out full force in his next few words.

“I never asked for you to tolerate me! Never asked for your company. Never asked for you to follow me around with your simperin’ feelings.” He stepped closer, getting in your face sneering while completely shattering your hopes in two sentences. “You’re so easy to read now y/n it’s borin’. How ‘bout you wander off and go do something useful, and if I need your services, I’ll give ya a holler.”

That was it. You saw red behind your damp eyes. You roughly pushed Micah’s chest away with a surprise burst of strength, making the man stumble back and hit the porch railing. You went for your gun. Micah’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what you were doing. You had only just began to aim, when you noticed from the corner of your eye an outreached hand whipping out and grasping your wrist tightly yanking your pistol out of your hands. You glowered at the man who only tiredly looked at you in disapproval and sympathy.

“You need to calm down y/n. You’re lucky I got here when I did.”

“This don’t concern you Arthur Morgan! Hand me the gun.” You spat out glaring between Arthur and an oddly silent Micah.

“Look y/n, as much as I’d love to see this sack of shit dead you-”

“Then hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself!”

“-You can’t be doin’ that. We need every workin’ hand here to keep the gang together. We can’t have ourselves killin’ each other when we have a whole lot of problems out there tryin’ to kill us!” He raised his voice over your own, trying to get you to see reason. And you did. Arthur was always good at that. After a few moments of silence and deep breaths, you nodded.

You sniffled and glanced at Micah, who was just watching you warily like he’s never seen you before. Good. Keep looking. Squaring your shoulders, you collected yourself and took another deep breath. Enough of this. You were better this. So much better. And definitely better than Micah fucking Bell.

“You don’t get to talk to me. You don’t get to be near me. And you sure as hell don’t get to touch me. You… You are not worth this Micah Bell. I’m just sorry it took me this long to realize it.” And just like that, you turned your back to him and walked past Arthur, who was still holding your gun. Micah didn’t say a damned thing. This was probably the quietest you’ve ever heard the man. He let you leave without a peep. You walked to the absolute farthest part of the camp away from Micah, leaning against a tree, wiping your tears. You were done with crying over that lowly snake of a man.

Footsteps.

You turn your head and see Arthur awkwardly shuffling there and your lips upturned to a faint smile. This man was awful with trying to cheer people up but offering your gun back was a good attempt.

“Promise me you won’t shoot em? At least not yet.”

“Promise. I’m… sorry you had to hear all that, had to butt in.”

“It’s fine. To be honest, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Bright side, looks like you scared him quiet with that act. Wonder how long that’ll last though.”

You gave a bitter scoff and you both looked out at the fading sun through the gaps of the trees. “I’ve been a fool. But he’s an even bigger one. He’s gonna regret makin’ so many enemies out of people.”

Arthur huffed a laugh and crossed his arms. “Don’t I know it. Till then… you ever feel like you’re about to get trigger happy on him, just come my way alright?”

“Thanks Arthur… You’re a good man.” You smiled softly, hearing his quiet grumbles of denial. Lord that man couldn’t take a compliment. But you felt… better. Lighter. As much as you hurt right now in this moment, you knew you’d come out of this stronger. Arthur mentioned Dutch, Bill and Javier would be here soon as well. The gang together again, you could all move forward, get back on track. Lay low, earn money, and get the hell out of here. You could do it, you were a survivor. And no heartless Micah Bell was going to stop you.


	2. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had gotten an ask on tumblr a while after i posted that small fic:   
> "I love your writing, can you do one for Micah kinda like the other one you wrote on him? Except make him realize his mistake and have a happy ending? I just like to imagine deep down Micah would fall in love. 💗"
> 
> So I did just that. This is a continuation of the previous chapter, but with a happy end! :)   
> Warning, this is sooooo OOC. Stinky rat man has soft feelings, its about as ooc as it can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at reddeaddenial on tumblr  
> \- Original Prompt Info Below -
> 
> Micah x Reader Part 2
> 
> [Word Count: 2204  
> WELP THIS WENT LONGER THAN I MEANT. lol Ok so I tried my best. It got very out of character so please forgive me. It was a bit hard giving this man a heart I hope you understand lmao And I also apologize for the weird ending. If I didn’t cut it off somewhere I would have kept going cuz I have no chill lol]

Things were uncomfortably tense at the new camp in Beaver Hollow. Dutch was changing into someone you barely knew and camp was becoming divided; always at each others throats for one thing or another. You for the most part tried to quietly stick to your guard watches and your tent, not that anyone else cared much. They were all wrapped up in their own drama and fear. Nobody had the time or energy to put up the pretenses of friendship and family. Well except for maybe Arthur. The poor man was clearly sick and fading quickly into a shadow of the gunslinger you knew mere months ago. Added with the stress of constantly being hunted and running off to do chores for Dutch, you rarely saw him now a days.

But you did see one face in camp nearly every day. Ohhh _boy_ did you see Micah fuckin’ Bell, marching around, giving orders like he’s the shiny new second in command. At least that’s how he acted in front of others. He got whatever was needed doing in camp... But when he was alone or no one was looking at him, he would watch you across the way. This unreadable face, but his eyes… You knew his eyes. And they now currently always looked like some scolded puppy looking for reassurance.

And like _hell_ you would. You were done caring about Micah Bell. Or you at least tried to convince yourself you were. Saying one thing was fine, but emotions were choosy about how long they lingered in your poor troubled heart.

You missed him. His teasing smirk and his pretty eyes. You missed messing with that stupid hat of his, pressing it over his eyes and sneaking a kiss while he fixed it. You missed the crude and rough banter you tossed at each other.

You blamed him of course. You fell hard and those fond memories and soft feelings still had your heart in a vice, even after all that drama back in Lakay. You blamed yourself as well, for being so weak as to fall for such a man, a man who should be impossible to love. Yet here you were, back at square one… _pining_ , just like he said. Ugh. What a mess this was.

Micah had… surprisingly followed your words. He didn’t talk to you, kept his distance, never put a hand on you… It was surprisingly respectful for someone like him. But of all times he now had to show respect… _Dammit_ you hated this. You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him after all the cruel things he said… But you were still mad as all hell. And if he regretted what he had done, even a little bit, you weren’t going to give in. He needed to come to _you_! You have long grown tired of crawling back to Micah Bell.

It was with great irony after all this self reflection, you had discovered a letter in your bedroll two nights later. Strange. It was addressed to you, but you never wrote to anyone outside of camp. You had no one out there, so why would you get a letter? Maybe it was a note from someone in the gang? You didn’t recognize the writing at all. Letters elongated, tightly snug together to a nearly illegible degree, words every other sentence scratched out in hurried frustration. But as you made it out, things began to fall into place…

_Y/N,_

_You never said I couldn’t write you, so humor me for a moment. ~~I’m so-~~ I’ve done lots of thinking. That’s all I’ve been doing since Lakay. Thinking. ~~Of-~~ You always said I never did enough of it. Maybe…You’re right. I reckon I can indeed make a fool of myself as you so kindly have reminded me during much of our time together. But I’ve been more than a fool this time. I’ve been blind. Blind and ~~scar~~ dealing with too many problems at once. I took it out on you. I didn’t know how much I was until I was looking down your gun. In that moment I realized something. ~~I didn’t want t-~~ ~~I’ve chan~~ ~~\- I need to~~ -There’s something I’ve been thinking about, that I think would be better fitted in person than a piece of paper. ~~If you can-~~ Tolerate me for a few moments of your time. I’ll be to the West of camp by the river till midnight. ~~Please-~~ Hope to see you there. _

_-MB_

* * *

….

God dammit this was stupid. _YOU_ were stupid! But this was the exact type of sign you were quietly hoping for.  
  
Hmph, Hope.

That’s what got you into this mess to begin with. You’d think you would have learned your lesson by now but here you were, quietly making your way down the hill to the river bank. But what could you say? You were curious! Never in your time in the gang have seen Micah pick up a pencil and write, let alone a letter! He put enough effort to be somewhat of an apology and that had you wanting to hear him out, and wring a real apology out of his throat.

“Micah.” You say to the man as you approached the bank of the river in the evening twilight. His back was to you, watching the water, the occasional fish rippling the surface to catch a bug of some sort. Micah turned around the moment he heard your voice.  
  
“Y/n…”

You frowned getting a better look at him as you took a few steps forward. He looked exhausted. And serious. His face was strained, like the weight of everything was starting to sink in.  
  
“You look like shit Mister Bell.”

That broke the mask of stoicism, huffing a slight laugh and a half smile. Good. You could work with this. You hoped. There you were with the damned hope again.

  
“Yeah well, I feel like shit Y/n. Ever since Guarma really. And can you blame me? Everythin’s been going to hell.”

“No kiddin’. But I’m guessin’ you didn’t weasel out of my demands I laid down just to tell me about the obvious. Writin’ a letter Micah? Huh, Guess you _can_ be smart when ya wanna be.” It felt good to banter like this. God you had missed it.  
  
“Not where it counts ‘parently.” The blonde outlaw rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the grass by his boots. “You know me… Shit Y/n, you know me more than I know me sometimes. Talk is not somethin’ I’m known to be good at so just… listen ok?”

Well this was surreal. It was a side of Micah you sometimes caught glimpses of when the two of you talked alone. The side that wasn’t constantly antagonizing or plotting. This was… straight up honesty. A damned scary concept for the both of you. But you kept your mouth shut and nodded, wanting to hear him out.  
  
“I am not a good man. I never will be. I’ve done things. Killed things. People. Ruined lives. And I felt nothin’ for ‘em. I still do. And I don’t regret none of it. I’m. Not. A. Good. Person.” Micah sighed and folded his arms over his chest. “But you make me wanna be.”  
  
Your heart stopped at those words. Your breath stopped. Time stopped. Who was this? Was this real? Was he drunk? _Dying?_  
  
Micah carried on, not taking notice of your inner struggle. “You try to see me under all the bad. Findin' things about me. This silver linin’ in everything. Reelin' me in when I go too far. Callin’ me out when I get too wrapped up into myself. You’re changin’ me y/n. Didn’t noticed till I was off on my own with the boys in Guarma. I was back to my old shit and I realized how much I changed before. You… I.." He sighed and looked away from you. He was frustrated, maybe a little bit flustered from what you could tell. This was hard for him. It was honest. It was _cute_. You kept your mouth shut still as he talked.

"Well as you would say, like the fool I am, instead of trying to understand it, I wanted to run from it. So I.. I said things. So many nasty things to you y/n. I regret every single one of them. I am, to the bottom of my heart and soul, if I still got any.”  
  
You listened intently, focused on every inflection of his tone. There was so much he was trying to say in so little words. Yet it was the most you’ve ever heard him say about what he was feeling and thinking. Typical Micah. You couldn’t help but be awed though. He was a very prideful man, such a massive change in character to his old ways. You knew he was serious about this. Very. But you still had to be sure.  
  
“So… You want me to forgive you Micah?”  
  
“No.”

Now that shocked you.  
  
“No?”

“No. I just wanted you to see in person how much I regretted my actions. But mostly because I need you to-.. I need you to cut loose from the gang and get out of here.”

“….What?!”  
  
“Look at me Y/n.” Micah stared right at you. Those pretty eyes you oh so adored that were normally so closed off and wary, were now so open and… vulnerable. “Things… are only gonna get worse with the gang. Bad things are gonna go down and I just don’t want you gettin’ mixed up and killed in all of it. I may have… done something bad before I got to Lakay. Real bad. Stupid. Lookin' out for myself as usual. I’ll deal with my mistakes as they come. But you don’t need to be punished for it too.”  
  
“Micah… What did you do?”  
  
“Too much. As usual. But enough of that. Here.” he fished the inside of his jacket and pulled out several hefty stacks of bills. “Not like anyone else is using this anymore. Take it and just leave tonight while everyone’s asleep.”

“Wait…You’re the one who smashed the tithing box.”

“Guilty.”  
  
“ _You stole all the money?!_ ”  
  
“Like I said. No one was using it. Have you seen how people been actin’? Why are you acting so damn surprised y/n, you know me.”

“I do…” You looked at the money in Micah’s outstretched hand and gingerly took it. “I… also know that I would never stop caring about you. Wanting you. Hell, I love you Micah Bell. I never stopped, like the fool I am, despite everythin’, I damn well never stopped.”

Micah had that same look of shock on his face as he did when you pulled a gun on him during your spat in Lakay. Disbelieving. Denial. “You… You can’t mean that y/n. I’m not.. Good for you.”  
  
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t mean Mister Bell, I can feel what I damn well please! And I feel that I _love you!_ Accept that as fact.” You had closed the distance between each other, bringing a hand to the side of his face. Micah near reflexively leaned into your touch.

“So I guess you wouldn’t be _horribly_ offended if I reciprocate?” You couldn’t help smiling at that, leaning in to kiss Micah. Your Micah. This was probably the closest you’d ever get to the man saying ‘i love you’. But you enjoyed a challenge. You’d wrangle it out of him in time.  
  
 _Time_. That was all they needed. And they wouldn’t get it staying here.  
  
You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, stroking Micah’s cheek gently. He was so different when no one was around, looking at you so gently. “Micah.. Run with me. Let’s take this money and leave.”  
  
“Leave!? Y/n, I can’t…Dutch-”

  
“Yes. Yes you can. Since when has that ever stopped you from doin’ what you want? Forget Dutch. He’s gone crazy anyways. Leave with me. We have some money, and it’ll be easier to get out west if it’s just us. This gang has.. Has condemned itself ever since Blackwater. It’s _dyin’_ Micah. Let’s not die with it. Please, leave with me. We’re both survivors, we can easily live out there, together.”  
  
Together. 

It seemed those last words were all that it took for Micah to consider it seriously. Together. Yes, together you were a force to be reckoned with. Together, you both could survive. After a long pause, eyes distant in thought, Micah took your hand from his cheek and covered it with his own. A look, one you knew when he was up to no good. A smirk, that cocky attitude that made him think he could get away with anything.

“I’ll get the horses ready. You pack what we need.” His answer had you grinning from ear to ear. You gave him a quick kiss and made a dash up the hill back to camp, wanting to get the hell out of here while you could. Your heart was pounding with the thrill of leaving, leaving with Micah. _Your Micah_. Together you two could survive it all. And lord help anyone who ever got in either of your’s way.


End file.
